My mother bought me my first electric typewriter when I was twelve years of age. It was an excellent quality Brother model attractively toned in beige with a black keyboard.
Before then, I had two manual typewriters.
I treasured the gift my mother gave to me as it gave me a productive way to occupy my mind. She purchased the electric typewriter because she knew I liked to write and after creatively experimenting with stories I had invented with my new literary machine I was certain a writer is what I definitely wanted to be when I grew up.
I use to sit up at my dresser in my bedroom sipping hot tea with milk delightfully typing my imagination away!
During my teenage years my mother wanted to buy me a computer, however, I didn’t want one at the time.
I wasn’t interested as I was content writing in long hand on notebook paper then typing my manuscripts up with the use of my electric typewriter.
Then, one day I got surprised when an old neighbor who use to live next door to us purchased me a brand new computer for Christmas.
She had gotten me everything to go along with it. The monitor, the keyboard, speakers and a printer.
Ever since, I don’t understand why I didn’t want a computer from the beginning when my mother had first suggested the idea to me.